okay, what else
by The Crownless Geeks
Summary: A collection of outtakes (and possibly a few omakes) of the okay, so we're doing this series. First one: Alex's first letter home.
1. Alex's First Letter Home (HP verse)

**Alex's First Letter Home**

Hey Mom, Hey Dad,

I'm sorry for the way I ran off at the station, honestly, but, well, you know these weird dreams I've always been having for as long as I can remember?

I met someone from them.

Granted, technically, several someones and all of them look differently than they did before, but then again, so do I. Because, as it turns out, they weren't dreams after all, but memories.

I know, I know, it's hard to believe close to impossible, but let me remind you that you would have said the same thing about magic before and look where I am now.

The school is a castle! An actual castle, like, straight from a fairytale. It looked awesome when I first saw it. It even distracted me from the fact that I was sitting in a boat for a moment or two — luckily, I have been told that this is likely the last time that will be required. You know that I never liked big masses of water and it's not gotten any better with the memories.

Anyways, the Great Hall where we've had our entry feast (or whatever they are calling it) and were sorted — more on that in a minute — it lightened by dozens upon dozens of floating candles. No, really! And both the paintings and the stairs move (for some reason I have yet to discover).

The Sorting did not happen the way I expected it to. Not that I know precisely what I expected, but I can honestly say that a talking and singing Hat wasn't it. Again, I kid you not.

I am fairly sure that I rambled about the four Houses at least five dozen times in these two months, so you should know what each House means by now.

And no, Dad, I didn't get Ravenclaw. Mom and I were right in the theory that I am clearly a Slytherin.

Our common room — which I am in right now — is located under the lake, which, to be honest, creeps me out a bit.

I'll be rooming with some boy named Carlos something and my old friend Aaron Burr. Though his last name is Burts now.

Honest question: Is it odd to be friends with the man who shot me last time around? Because I think it might be, but I'd like to think it's not.

Oh, wait, I never actually got to the point of explaining what happened at Platform 9 ¾, did I? Sorry for that, really, but you know me and my ADHD.

Okay, so bear with me. Reincarnation is a thing. Like, an actual thing thing, not just something that Hindus and Buddhists and some other people believe in. It's a thing that happens.

You might be wondering how I know. Well, as it turns out, this life isn't my first one. I lived a life before, and in that life I was Alexander Hamilton, one of the Founding Fathers of the United States (which explains a lot of things actually): I don't know how much you know about him — about me — but you should probably read up on that.

I mean, I could explain my past life here, but Aaron is already eying me which means that he'll drag me off to bed soon — don't worry, it's not that late. And I'm not even using my standards, I swear!

Anyways, a few things you should probably be aware of:  
1) I also was an immigrant from Nevis/St. Croix, but to New York instead of London.

2) I was married to the most perfect being to ever walk this planet, Elizabeth Schuyler, and she is here with me now.

3) I cheated on her and she found out by me admitting to it in a 95-page pamphlet. It was the worst mistake I ever made, but it happened.

4) I also was, well, involved with a fellow soldier, John Laurens, during the Revolutionary War as well, but he died early. Too early. John's back as well and both he and Eliza are in Gryffindor.

5) My archenemy, Thomas Jefferson — who is Black this time around! I will take that as proof that there is indeed a God, because that guy owned over 100 slaves and was basically the ideal Republican (but back then it were the Democratic-Republicans and...I should probably stop this right now) — is back as well. He's rooming with Hercules Mulligan, another old friend of mine. My sisters-in-law (not this time around, at least not yet, don't worry) (oh, and their names are Peggy and Angelica, although Peggy is not actually here yet), James Madison (minor enemy/colleague? I honestly don't know), and my basically surrogate father — not that I ever admitted that fact — George Washington have returned as well.

Which actually brings me to 6)

My last father left my last mother, my brother, my half-brother, and I alone when I was ten.

My last mother died when I was twelve. We were sick and she was holding me as she died.

The cousin I moved in with afterwards — I don't really recall anyone else being there with me, so I'm pretty sure they either lived somewhere else or died as well — committed suicide and left me with nothing.

7) What little I managed to gather over the years was pretty much completely destroyed by a hurricane when I was 17.

8) There are a lot more sad facts like these I could mention, but I can't quite bring myself to list them all. Plus, Aaron is almost ready to make his way over here. I sat here a lot longer than these few lines would normally take me, but you deserve to know.

Dad, I'm really sorry that I subconsciously blamed you for the things a completely different man did. I couldn't really help it, but it's not right either. I hope you don't hold it against me.

You really should look into my past life. I would go on, but Aaron is standing next to me now and is only allowing me one more paragraph. I miss both of you, but I don't regret coming here at all. I hope that you believe me with all this.

I love both of you.

Alex

PS: Aaron wants me to tell you that he is incredibly sorry for shooting me last time and that he will swear up and down that it won't happen again.


	2. How George Remembered (HP verse)

_now what i'm gonna say may sound indelicate_ series (aka the HP verse)

* * *

 ** _How George Remembered_**

* * *

George doesn't think he had ever felt so proud as the moment he had opened that envelope from Hogwarts and found the Prefect badge in it. Its weight had felt warm in his hand despite the sharp bite of the metal itself, and though he had also spent hours wondering if he was worthy of it, he had also been desperate to prove, if only to himself, that he could do it.

Charlie and Tonks, his friends, had insisted that he was the only choice from the very beginning.

"Who else would they pick? Scott, who always hands his homework in a week late? Jackson, who keeps attempting to bully first years? Hale, who quite possibly doesn't even know how to spell 'Prefect'?" Tonks had commented.

Charlie had nodded. "Face it, you're the only real choice."

And they had turned out to be right. Which is why he was here now, in the Prefect compartment, awaiting instructions from the Head Boy and Girl as to what exactly he is supposed to do.

The first thing is that he and the others are supposed to patrol on the train. Being the fifth-year Hufflepuff prefect means that he gets assigned to the very end of the train, but he doesn't actually mind that.

It gives him some time to think before he'll be off to Tonks and Charlie and their craziness that had felt oddly like a déjà vu the very first time he had seen them. Then again, many things felt like that to George, so it wasn't really all that odd.

He let his feet take control of his way, not consciously thinking about moving to a certain point - he is too busy letting his mind wander - until he feels something that strikes him.

There are waves of recognition radiating from one of the compartments. Something or someone he knows is in there, like an old friend he has forgotten, he just knows it.

And before he knows it, he has opened the door to the compartment and stepped inside. It's empty for the notable exception of one girl, probably a first year. Her skin is a lot paler than his, but that is true for a lot of people. Her red hair is falling loosely over her shoulders and she has quite a number of freckles on her face.

George had been right a few moments earlier. The girl is a forgotten friend. But he had also been wrong as there was a lot more he had forgotten.

An entire lifetime, in fact. A lifetime, full of blood, war and rebellion, but also legislation, meetings, and hard decisions.

When Angelica speaks, it becomes clear that she is from Ireland this time around. "General Washington? That really you?"  
"I...I think so," George replies, sitting down on the nearest seat.

"Wait, ya just remembered now? Ma sisters an' I always remembered. At least, I don't t'ink it ever wasn't tha case."

"Eliza is back as well?" George asks. His voice is filled with hope. If two of the Schuyler sisters are around then there is a higher chance that others are as well. Martha, her children, Alexander, Lafayette or any of their children that he had considered to be grandchildren if he was completely honest with himself.

Angelica nods. "She is. So is Peggy. But we've seen naw sign of anyone else quite yet."

"Well, I just rediscovered who I, apparently, was. Maybe it has something to do with meeting you," he theorizes.

She startles. "Ya t'ink that I only remember because I had ma sisters with me?"

"It would make sense, wouldn't it?" George shrugs. "Clearly my own memories needed some kind of trigger, and it would make sense yours did too, but you were too young to remember it."

"Or you're the outlier, and we were always supposed to remember everyt'ing," Angelica suggests, eyebrow raised.

George huffs a laugh. "Maybe. It's not like we have a way to confirm either theory."

She snorts. "I suppose ya're right there. Unless we find someone else."

"Have you?"

"We haven't. That's why I was so surprised to meet ya. I didn't t'ink there was anyone but the Schuylers around after not meeting anyone for years."

"That doesn't sound very promising, you're right," George acknowledges, then he sighs. "I would've loved to meet Martha again."

"Ya'll find her," Angelica reassures him sympathetically.

"I hope so," he replies, his hand moving towards his chest to grab the chain that isn't even there. Now he can't even see her portrait that had always kept him sane during all those years, and he finds the perspective of having to lose this habit rather daunting. "I really hope so."

Angelica winces. "Let's talk about something else, shall we?" she proposes.

"That sounds like a great idea," George agrees. He doesn't particularly fancy going back to the prefect compartment with teary red eyes. Tonks and Charlie had seen him cry before, so that wasn't the problem, of course, but he didn't fancy the questioning that would undoubtedly follow.

It was quite odd, really. These memories had given him a new perspective on a number of things, but he hadn't expected crying to be among them. Back then, it wasn't considered unmanly to cry, and not in the 'brave enough to show emotions' kind of way. It had simply been a fact of life. Women cried and men did as well. End of story.

"So, how does the sorting work?" Angelica asks innocently.

George chuckles. "Nice try. I'm not going to tell you."

She shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

She looks a bit disappointed nevertheless, so George points out, "It's tradition not to tell the first years. You'll get to enjoy being on this side of the conversation with your sisters when they come. Which would be…?"

Angelica perks up at that. "This will be a lot of fun," she says, smirking. "And Eliza will start in two years, with Peggy two years after that still. Having to wait that long is driving her mad," she laughs fondly.

"See?" George says with a smile. "It's worth the frustration you're feeling now, I promise you that."  
"I'm going to hold you onto that, General." She points at him, with a serious expression on her face.

He'll never admit this out loud - he isn't suicidal - but she looks kind of adorable doing that.

"Please," he says instead, "call me George."

"Well then, George," Angelica replies (this would take a while to get used to, that was for sure), "please call me Angelica."


	3. VIVE LA PLUTO (HP verse)

_now what i'm gonna say may sound indelicate series_ (aka the HP verse)

 **This is not a part of the main story, as that takes place in the 1990 and this somewhere past 2006. But I couldn't** ** _not_** **write it.**

* * *

 **WinzardingWhovian: You're not wrong about the rambling. And we plan to show anything and everything we think of that doesn't fit in the main story(stories) for various reasons in this collection**

* * *

 _ **VIVE LA PLUTO**_

* * *

Astronomy is pretty high up the list of Alexander's favourite subjects, but then again, the lower end of the list consists out of History of Magic alone—why, just why couldn't they have at least a partly competent teacher whose voice was not monotonous enough to put most students to sleep?

Honestly, it's just hard to pick a favourite between all the different types of magic he is learning. Apart from Magical Theory that is clearly at the top—how could it _not_ be?—the only real distinction is possible due to the teachers, really.

And yeah, Astronomy is near the upper end of this list. The teacher, Professor Sinistra, is competent and knows how to handle children—which, for some reason, is a quality that only half of the teachers here have—and she is no Head of House, so she had no pointless bias in that regard.

Tonight, they will be starting a chart of all the planets of the solar system, their current placements, and the speed of their movements, created by the distance between the weeks.

It is the kind of work that Alex could easily lose himself in and he is pleased to see that Pluto is included on the list.

But, apparently, not everyone is of this opinion, for some reason.

"Why is Pluto even on this list?" Maxwell Diggs, a Muggleborn from Hufflepuff, wonders around a minute after he had received the list. "Pluto hasn't been a planet since 2006."

"Really? That's-" Thomas replies, but he was interrupted by Alex's scream.

"VIVE LA PLUTO! FUCK YOU!" He yells, pointing at Bell with a pencil. Honestly, Diggs can be lucky they're not in Potions, or it would have been a knife.

Professor Sinistra scolds Alex for his language. She doesn't seem to have gathered that the list of people who can get Alex to not say something is very small and she is not on it.

Hercules and Lafayette, however, begin applauding at Alex's words, while a majority of all students raised at least partially in the Muggle world join in at most a few seconds later.

"Ohana means family!" Katie Bell adds loudly. "And family means that no one gets left behind or forgotten. VIVE LA PLUTO!"

The last sentence was joined by all the cheering students.

John turns to Eliza. "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"Angelica told me something very similar happened in her class. Apparently, a lot of people take Pluto no longer being a planet very personally."

"No wonder that Alexander is among them, I would say," Aaron comments as he adjusts his telescope

"Did I hear that correctly, Aaron? Was that an opinion?" John teases good heartedly.

Aaron groaned, but the smile on his face showed his amusement. "Shut up, John."


End file.
